


What Are You Watching?

by drhanniballecter



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:44:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drhanniballecter/pseuds/drhanniballecter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Will is having some alone-time in front of the TV, and Hannibal picks the worst/best time to drop by, and...give him a hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Are You Watching?

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm...I suppose if this goes over well, I might be writing more on here...  
> 

Will Graham quickly ushered his dogs out of his living room and into his bedroom, shutting the door on them as he made sure the last tail had cleared it's path. They were going to bed a little bit early tonight, Will had other plans. Not that the dogs necessarily cared; he had made sure to take them on an extra long walk so that they would be worn out much earlier than usual. Tonight was for him.

He marched over to his TV with bare feet, having earlier removed socks and shoes, placing them neatly by his front door so as to not track in mud. Will was by no means a clean freak, but he hadn't grown up ignorant to basic cleanliness, and he was definitely not so lazy as to just throw his things about. Will's TV was lifted by a small shelving unit that conveniently served to hold his rather unimpressive collection of movies, and a few misplaced books. He bent down to examine them, trying to find the right one, which didn't take too much time. In earnest, Will made no real attempt to hide his more explicit films, naturally because he was an adult, and lived alone. Any _normal_ guest wouldn't go poking and prodding about his things while he wasn't there, so that was never really something that he concerned himself with.

Easily finding what he was looking for, he popped the DVD out of it's discrete-enough container, and placed it in the disk slot, eagerly helping it along with his hand as he did. It perhaps was a little juvenile that he be so excited about something like this, but (in an attempt to be understated) things had been rough lately, and this was getting to be a very rare opportunity. Not that he had engaged in self-pleasure in abundance before being manhandled back on to the field, but he had done it with enough regularity that it was now something he was aching to indulge in. He paused the video as it started up to ready himself, opting to take off his pants and boxers completely. No one could see, so what was the harm? He looked around for his lubrication, idly laughing at the adolescent idea of using lotion and a tube sock (he remembered those days, along with an embarrassing experience that's to be saved for another time). Finding the lube in his bathroom, where he had last made use of it several months ago, he placed himself on his couch. He didn't bother looking for anything that would play the role of the tube sock; he didn't want to. It was freeing in a way (more kinky, in his mind) to make a small mess of things.

He grabbed the remote, pressed play, and turned the volume to a very liberating level since he had no close neighbors to worry about. Leaning back and placing the remote to his side, he spread his legs, without reserve, very far apart as he applied a generous amount of lubricant to his hand. He grabbed a hold of himself firmly, and began to work in slow strokes. It didn't take very long at all to get himself hard; perhaps it had been longer than he'd thought since he last did this. He honestly didn't need the help of the two men on screen who were going at it- _hard_ , even having only been 'at it' for a couple of minutes; but, much like the refusal to use a receptacle, watching it made him feel dirtier, which he enjoyed. For fun, and to make use out of the movie, he mimicked the motions of the dominant actor who was giving the other what seemed to be a very interesting hand-job, he likewise mimicked the Sub's reactions, moaning and pretending someone else was giving him the best hand-job of his life. The actor on screen came quickly, though that wasn't anywhere near the end of it, Will had always been amazed at just how many shots they seemed to have in them. He knew this was only a means to switch which character played the dominant role, it was like a match in a game of tennis, which he had played briefly when he was younger; the players switch sides of the court, as they switch who serves the ball...or something like that, perhaps it wasn't the perfect metaphor, but that wasn't really what mattered to him at the moment. He took a moment to slow things down, as the actors themselves took a break from the more intense action to engage each other's lips. He wanted to last as long as possible; he used to keep track mentally of his longest time, but since getting involved with the FBI, some of the more mundane things simply needed to leave his memory. He'd have to set a new record.

Suddenly a thought crossed his mind which caused him to blush, but he did not let minor embarrassment hold him back from trying. Leaning forward, he attempted to close his lips around himself. He had heard somewhere, perhaps on the radio, that it was impossible for any average person to pleasure themselves in such a way, but he had since been curious to test that out for himself. It was indeed proving rather impossible, he even tried sticking his tongue out as far as it would go to see it he couldn't at least lick himself. This feat he actually managed a few times, but with a difficulty that proved to not be worth it. Discarding the idea from his mind, and making a side note to completely block the attempt from his memory, he returned to slow strokes. Gradually he built up a pressure that seemed to spread a warm shock all the way to his chest. He built up speed, and began to stagger-breath, feeling his cheeks start to flush. It was at that moment, that the worst possible thing occurred.

The doorbell rang. Instantly snapping out of his trance-like state, Will went into a small panic, quickly grabbing the remote and muting the TV. He hoped for a moment that it was only the mailman, or else someone else who would leave on their own. He very quickly, and regretfully discarded the idea, seeing as it was nearly 10pm. Anyone who was here knew he was home and wouldn't be leaving. All the same, Will wasn't in a hurry to answer the door, he was very effectively frozen in place, wishing desperately that whoever it was hadn't heard the (now obnoxious) sounds that had just a moment ago filled the whole room. He then realized what were probably his worst fears as he heard an all too distinct voice sound from the other side of his door.

"Will?"

Oh great. Of course it had to be Hannibal Lecter. He would definitely not go away. Will considered telling him that now was not a good time, and that he'd talk to him tomorrow, but that would likely only cause concern and make for an uncomfortable discussion later. Knowing he'd probably regret any choice he made, he called out

"Uhm, just one minute." as he very quickly turned the TV off and slipped back in to his pants, kicking his boxers under his couch, deciding there wasn't time to put those on too. He walked awkwardly (really it was more like a waddle) to his door, cursing himself to act normally despite the enormous aching between his legs. He opened his door as far as he dare, making a very noticeable attempt at covering himself by placing his arm so that it would fall in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" Will asked, trying not to sound too hostile, even though he felt like hissing at him to leave.

"I wondered if you might like to accompany me to the opera? I know it's rather late notice, but I did just realize I had another ticket lying around..."

The premise seemed very suspicious to Will. Who would not remember buying a second ticket? Why would Hannibal drive an hour to ask something that he'd possibly be turned down at instead of simply calling? And perhaps most evidently, why was he not dressed for a night at the opera? It's not that a 3-piece suit could ever be considered casual, but things like the opera, Will knew often came with a black tie dress code. All the same, Will was not in a mood to argue.

"Uh, I don't mean to be rude doctor, but I kind of had a long day. I'm pretty tired. I'll definitely take a rain check, if you don't mind?" Will had high hopes this would be the end of the interaction.

"Of course, I understand. I apologize for disrupting you." Hannibal spoke calmly, with his usual hawk-like gaze resting on Will.

"No, it's no bother..." Will suddenly felt rude for blowing him off, but really what other option did he have?

"Would you mind terribly if I grabbed a drink of water while I'm here? It's a bit of a drive to the opera house."

_God no._ Will thought. He was already struggling enough as it was, half hiding himself behind the door, but to actually let Hannibal in? He might see the open lubricant bottle, just sitting there on his coffee table, liked it payed rent. Nevertheless, he couldn't refuse without actually being rude, or raising suspicion.

"Sure, ah..come in." He moved back awkwardly with the door to let him pass. Even though Will had willingly let him in, it felt a lot like a crude invasion of privacy. Hannibal walked in with a calmness that made Will feel even more rushed to be done with this interaction. If Will didn't know any better he'd have sworn this was purposeful. Hannibal helped himself to Will's kitchen which was openly adjacent to his living room. He poured himself a glass of water as Will stood behind the table, still attempting to mask his shame. After pouring he walked idly over to Will's living room, glass in hand, sitting on the arm of the couch. This was not okay.

"Dr. Lecter, don't you think you should get going? I mean, if it is a drive...you wouldn't want to be late." Will couldn't hold back the urgency in his voice, he was _suffering_ at this point.

Ignoring Will's obvious pleading, Hannibal placed his glass of water directly and seemingly deliberately next to the open bottle of lubricant. Will felt himself blush a furious shade of red as he did. Hannibal looked to Will with what seemed to be a mix of curiosity and sadism, before he spoke.

"Come here, Will." He said sternly. Listening in, someone might have thought it was an owner talking to his dog, about to chastise him for wrongdoing. Will would have been frozen in place, but he didn't want to think about what might happen if he did not obey. Arms still crossed over his groin, he shakily approached Hannibal.

"Sit." Hannibal commanded. And again, Will obliged, now having somewhat of an internal panic attack. Hannibal sat to the right of Will, picking up the remote that had managed to bury itself between couch cushions.

"Uhm, Dr. Lecter-" Will started only now to protest, but Hannibal raised a finger to quiet him.

"Your DVD player is on, Will. I'd like to know what you were watching."

_Oh this is definitely unorthodox for a doctor and his patient._ Will thought as his eyes widened in terror, he felt extremely awkward and despised Hannibal for purposefully putting him through this. Why was he doing this?

As Hannibal pushed the button to turn Will's screen back on, Will couldn't help but close his eyes, not wanting to see the reaction, expecting the doctor to be mortified. Although, the silence that ensued was probably more mortifying than any offended gasp could have been. Will dared peek his eyes open to see that Hannibal's face had remained unchanged. Will hadn't paused the video, so the two men on screen were going at it as rabidly as ever, so unfortunately not being sentient enough to realize that Dr. Hannibal Lecter was now watching, or else they too would probably stop. Will said nothing as he watched Hannibal watch the screen. What could he say? How could there possibly be words for this situation? He kept quiet, mouth agape, waiting for Hannibal to do something, or say something.  


It seemed an eternity before he finally did something. Taking his eyes off the screen, he looked at Will with a very hard to read expression. Very casually, he moved his hand over to the bulge in Will's pants, which he had resentfully forgotten to keep trying to hide. As if Hannibal hadn't known the whole time? He wasn't stupid after all. What with the flushed look on Will's face as he answered the door, the awkward way he stood and walked, of course Hannibal had known, but this reaction was the very last thing Will had expected.  
"What are you doing?" Will asked. A stupid question, that was not dignified with an answer. The only response from Hannibal came from a gentle massage over Will's pants. Will quieted, attempting to shake the stunned look off his face. Whatever this was, it was good, and he didn't want to ruin it with speaking. After a few moments Will shifted under the uncomfortable feeling of jeans against such sensitive skin, which Hannibal easily picked up on. Very coolly, Hannibal unbuttoned Will's jeans with one hand, and took his time with the zipper, trailing his fingertips across Will as he slowly brought the zipper down. Will had shaved-completely, which drew a smile to Hannibal's face.

"Good." Hannibal said under his breath as Will kicked off his pants completely. His pants had been stained with lubricant, but luckily the majority had managed to stay on Will; no need to reapply. Hannibal took Will in his hand, even more firmly than he had been with himself earlier, and instantly began a vigorous tempo. Will squirmed under the intensity, jacking his legs open wider, and moaning with a mix of pleasure and pain. A full flush returned to Will's face as the good doctor cruelly took his hand, rolling it over the tip repeatedly. Will gasped sharply under the way too intense pleasure (it was very nearly a scream), as he shut his eyes, hoping to come soon. Of course, Hannibal wasn't going to let that happen. As Will was nearing his climax, Hannibal slowed down, taking attention off the tip, opting for a slower tug. That drew a very loud groan from Will, who tried desperately to counteract the torturous move by bucking his hips into Hannibal's hand, only to yell out in frustration when it yielded few results.

" _Please!_ " Will begged gruffly through gritted teeth. He dug dulled nails deeply into his couch to try to refocus some of the pressure but it did very little to help.

Hannibal smiled at Will's pleading, though the reaction was completely lost on Will who still had his eyes very tightly shut. Hannibal decided to be merciful, for once (if it could even be called mercy at this point). Speeding up his actions once more, Hannibal let Will come very quickly, watching closely as relief came to his face by his allowance of it. That was the prize, really; pain and pleasure both at his whim. Will felt only what Hannibal allowed him to feel, and that was beautiful. Will managed, of course, to come over himself, making a mess of Hannibal's hand and of his own lap. Hannibal calmly grabbed a tissue from the coffee table, cleaning his hand off completely before discarding it. He handed a tissue to Will as well, who said nothing, but quietly accepted it, also cleaning himself off.

It had very nearly escaped Will's attention that Hannibal was now also in need of relief. Somewhere during Will's moans of agony, Hannibal himself had gotten hard. The idea that he had made Hannibal's body react that way, was one he took pride in. Will reached for him, eager to repay the pleasure, but Hannibal swatted his hand away. Looking almost offended, Will looked up at him, but he offered no explanation as he reached for the lubricant and applied a small amount to his hand to facilitate himself. The doctor unzipped his own pants, starting on himself quickly. At first, Will could only watch, awkwardly in awe at how big Hannibal was. _That would make for an interesting topic later on._ Will thought smugly. He was beginning to feel cheated, as though Hannibal were doing his job, and he'd be damned if he was just going to sit there and let it happen. Aggressively, Will made a move for control, pushing Hannibal's hand out of the way, and replacing it with his own. He wouldn't be able to put the doctor through the same torture he endured, but that was okay; as long as the climax came by _his_ hand. Hannibal raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by Will's aggression. He looked as if he were deciding between an amused smile and an angry glare. In the end, he opted for the amused smile, which perhaps only made Will angrier, causing him to speed up his motions, working Hannibal to come quickly. When Hannibal did climax, relief was only shown with a rather gentle sigh. It was probably very spectacular, the amount of control Hannibal had over his body, which cheated Will out of the same pleasure Hannibal got out of controlling the other's feelings. Unlike Will, Hannibal created the mess almost completely on Will's coffee table. Another interesting feat, as it was a few good feet away (apparent Hannibal went for distance). 

Saving Hannibal the effort, Will quickly got a tissue to clean up the mess, discarding it instantly. He leaned back in the couch to the sight of Hannibal fixing himself up, zipping his pants, and straightening a few hairs that decided to go stray. Suddenly Will felt exposed with his complete lack of covering, and blushed. It was only when Hannibal made a move to turn the TV off, that Will realized the volume had never been taken off mute, actually, he had completely forgotten it was even on after Hannibal had started touching him. Will smiled meekly as Hannibal turned to face him, not sure what the next move should be. Very easily, Hannibal leaned to Will, placing a hand behind his head and moving him in for a kiss. It was good, and Will would be lying if he said that he hadn't often fantasized about a similar situation. Perhaps getting a bit too excited, Will moved himself to straddle Hannibal, sitting himself bare against the doctor's suit. The texture was interesting and warm against his skin, and he curiously moved himself against it, testing the sensation. He kissed Hannibal again, parting his lips this time, allowing entry for Lecter's tongue, who took the invite graciously. Hannibal put his arms around him, as Will messed his fingers though Hannibal's hair, undoing the fixing that he had done just a few moments ago. Almost laughably, the thought crossed Hannibal's mind that this suit was now in desperate need of a wash, considering the surfaces currently touching it. For the moment he waved the thought away, tucking it safely in a corner of his mind, to be remembered again at a later time.

Time passed as Will refused to move off of Hannibal, keeping something of the straddled position, but also having since relaxed his weight completely on Hannibal. He was effectively laying on him now, more than anything else. It was clear Will was exhausted, and Hannibal felt something akin to the feeling one often gets when a tuckered out animal finds it's way in your lap. He didn't dare move Will off of him, just readjusting him so that they might both be a little more comfortable. Hannibal grabbed the throw blanket that was hung over Will's couch covering them both with it. It was thankfully a weekend, so they needn't worry about waking up for work. Will was out like a light, and peacefully, Hannibal began to drift into a comfortable sleep with the only thought on his mind being how he might convince Will to travel an hour to his house so that they might eat a breakfast prepared by him. He opted to leave that problem till morning, and gently tightened his hold on Will as his closed his eyes, and slept.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let it be known that there were never any opera tickets, and Hannibal came to Will's house in hopes of getting lucky, but got a lot more lucky than he had anticipated....  
> So yea, kudos and comments appreciated. Thanks!


End file.
